At Marine Drive
in Arabian Sea,
Kabir and Tuka,
runaways from faraways,
shorn of puja-pat,
phewing, chewing koyal
Aprils,
mop bald, sweaty heads
with hand-spun, red gamchas.
Fingers plying palms,
Kabir weaves lemon yellow
kurtas, to a fated design;
Tuka strings tampoora,
tweets notes,
decreed.
Weave or song.
Weaver or songster.
No takers.
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